Me and You in the Deep Blue
by OrangePlum
Summary: In which Alfred, aquaphobia extraordinaire, attempts to rescue a person from what he thinks is a shark attack, but it just turns out it's a merman. Queue awkward love story. Mermaid AU. US/UK/US
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: There are so many Mermaid AUs, and I'm not very partial to them. However, I decided to write one to see if I can manage a personal spin on the cliche plotline, as well as the fact that I haven't really encountered one where Arthur is the merman.

Some more chapters ahead if you guys like it. Also, shark facts were from National Geographic.

* * *

I've never been fond of the ocean, or water in general, actually.

It smells pretty gnarly, the wind stings my eyes, and the thought of floating around in a giant pool of fish turds doesn't appeal to me like it does to most people. I've also never been partial to water because of my phobia of shark attacks.

Did you know in 2010, North American Waters had 42% of all confirmed unprovoked attacks worldwide? It's crazy!

I guess it doesn't help that I constantly watch documentaries on sharks and scare myself half to death. My brother always gets down on me every time Shark Week appears on the television.

My mom told me that I was always afraid of what lived in bodies of water. She used to have a hard time giving me baths because I would scream bloody murder and try to climb out. I have no idea where this deep-rooted fear came from, and I have no idea how to get rid of it.

But it really doesn't help that, despite my family and friends knowing how crippling my fear of the water and all things aquatic is, they still proposed a beach trip.

Fan-fuckin'-tastic.

"C'mon, Al. Are you just going to sit there all day? We're going to go boogie board," Antonio says, eyeballing me from under the large umbrella protruding out of the sand. He's got smudges of white on his nose and cheeks, and I would make some sexual joke about it – no homo – if my stomach wasn't doing flips just staring at the waves behind him.

"Leave the pansy alone. You knew he was gonna get like this. I don't know why we invited him in the first place," Gilbert quips with a laugh that makes my fist ache with the sudden urge to punch him. Antonio stands and cocks his head at Gilbert with a frown.

"It wouldn't be fun if Alfred didn't come."

I huddle further under the umbrella and wrap my arms around my knees. There really wasn't a point in forcing me to wear a swimsuit when they knew I didn't even bother to learn how to swim. Um, duh. Why would I need to swim if I was never going into the water?

"Yeah, he's a real ball of excitement," Gilbert says, rolling his eyes. He eyeballs the sunglasses and huge beach hat I'm wearing. "You look like my grandma."

"Funny, coming from a lobster," I counter. He's albino, for God's sake, yet he's running around without a shirt or anything. We've only been here an hour and he's burnt to a crisp. He'll regret it later when I press my fingers to his red skin to watch it change color.

"You sure you don't want to try? Even just a little?" Antonio tries to coax. I slowly peer around him to see our other friends running and splashing each other. They all look so happy and carefree. It makes me sick . . . and also maybe just a tiny bit jealous maybe.

"I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Gilbert shrugs, grabbing the bend of Antonio's elbow and dragging him away. He gives one hesitant glance over his shoulder before acquiescing. "I'm not spending the whole day isolated in the shade."

I clench my fingers in the beach towel beneath me before shouting after them. "You'll all regret it when a fish bites your arms off! And they won't even make a cool movie about you, either!"

They don't hear me or they don't care because soon I'm back left alone with my own thoughts, nothing but their laughter and the roar of the frothy water to keep me company. Even just the sound of the ocean makes my knees quake. Why did we have to go to a beach of all places when there are perfectly good amusement parks off the freeway?

"Buncha jerks," I mutter dejectedly, feeling more than a little lonely like this. I take off my sunglasses and remove the floppy hat that Matt gave me. I wince. I am more than positive that this is a girl's hat.

With a stretch of my legs, I let my toes get buried under the burning sand. It feels pretty good so I put my fingers in to join them. I suppose the beach can have a couple cool things . . . like sand and sun . . . But I can always get that at a tanning salon and Walmart for thirty bucks, so who needs it, actually.

When nearly another hour passes of me sitting alone to watch my friends, I realize my telepathy isn't working to urge them to get bored so we can go home. Occasionally someone will check up on me for a minute, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed into my personal bubble, but then they'll leave and I'll be left alone again.

Someone with my short attention span should've known I wouldn't be able to sit here for very long. I stand up abruptly and shake the grains of sand from my shorts and shirt. The sun is much warmer when I leave the safety of the umbrella.

With a shaking breath, I decide to go exploring.

I cast my friends a quick glance to see none of them even sparing me the time of day before I start to walk down the beach. There are a lot of people here with their families and friends. It's like a maze of towels and blankets with coolers and beach balls sprinkled in every now and then. The crowd is reassuring, but I kind of start to like it when I make my way farther and the people become less and less until I'm alone.

This side of the beach isn't that great. The sand is hotter and it's got what feels like little rocks in it. There're a lot of bigger rocks and sea gunk on the shore so it's pretty ugly all in all. I stare at the water and feel my heartbeat start to quicken. I give a rough swallow, flexing my fingers at my sides.

Gilbert's stupid laugh echoes around my brain and I make my way towards the shore.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Alfred," I say quietly to myself, edging onto a patch of rocks. "Lots of people go swimming and nothing happens to them." I keep my balance and get closer to the water.

"It even looks kinda cool." I look down into a tide pool at my side to see some of the sea life crawling around. "See? They're just like normal animals, like a dog or a cat. But different. OK, I'm pretty sure that's an alien, but that's fine, too. I don't judge." I skirt away from the pool, disgusted by the sea creatures. Why do they have to be so _ugly_?

"And you can just shove this in Gilbert's dumb face that you can so be brave. If this isn't brave, I don't know what is," I reassure, smiling to myself. There's a large pool of shallow water surrounded by the jagged rocks on the shore, separating itself from the wide expanse of the ocean.

"That . . . is kinda pretty, actually," I deadpan, staring at the green water rippling when parts of waves crash into the outside of the rocks. I don't see any gross alien life forms in this pool so my shoulders start to relax . . .

For all of five seconds, because then I spot something shiny and scaly out in the distance of the pool. It's almost the same color as the water so I don't catch it at first, but then I see a fin stick out and I'm crouching down so fast my legs almost snap in half. I grab the rocks so hard my fingers hurt, my body shaking with a sudden gust of cold terror.

"Sh-sh-sha-sh . . ."

Jesus on roller-skates, it's a fucking _shark_.

And it's a real life one, too! Like the ones you see on the television or at the aquariums. I've never put myself in a position where I'd be in the same proximity as a shark, so I start kicking myself immediately when my dumbass phobia kicks in and I can't move.

Of course oceans are bad. I hate everyone who tells me otherwise. I knew this would happen. There are terrible monsters in there. Why do you think sailors used to tell stories about being attacked by giant squids and stuff?

It's because it's hella true!

The shark hasn't seemed to notice me yet, so I take this opportunity to master bladder control and start to glacially creep my way away from the edge of the water. I glance at the shark every three seconds over my shoulder to make sure it's still on the other side, when I make another horrifying discovery.

There's hair. Like, hair from a human in the water.

I balk, the tremors in my body amplifying when it sinks in that I'm witnessing a real life shark attack.

_RUN SCREAMING LIKE A BABY BACK TO THE JEEP DO IT RUN NOW, _a voice in my head starts to frantically insist. I have half a mind to listen to it, but then another voice tries to counter it.

_You have to help them. What kind of human being are you to let them die like this? You would want help if you were being eaten alive._

"We c-c-can't know that f-for certain," I deny, ignoring the stinging pain of the rocks digging into my knees and cutting them up. The head bobs and I don't really have a choice before my body makes my decision for me before my mind can protest.

I crawl like, uh, I don't know, like something that crawls really fast over to where this shark is defiling a member of the human race. I don't know how I manage that between the mist hitting my face and the loud noises of the waves distracting me.

I'm on the thin layer of rocks, shark attack on one side and the deep blue sea on the other. I must be crazy, because I'm scrambling with hands shaking so hard that it looks like I'm seizing, picking up fistfuls of loose rock shards around me.

With a yell, I throw them as hard as I can at the torso of the shark, hitting it full-on. I think it lets go of the person because their head springs up immediately with a curse before I'm slipping from the momentum and landing into the pool.

I may or may not have lost control of my bladder then.

_Goodbye, cruel world. I lived a pretty good life. No huge complaints, except for being killed by a huge shark. That's the only thing I would change,_ I think, shutting my eyes tightly under the water. I am kinda hoping I drown first before it takes a bite out of me, but then there are hands under my armpits hauling me above the surface.

I gasp loudly, jerking back when I see the frowning face of a guy with the biggest eyebrows I've ever seen right in front of me.

"Sh-shark! There's a sh-sh-shark in the water! Get out!" I start yelling at this guy, fighting against his hold to get closer to the rocks. He doesn't let go of me and he doesn't look scared either like I figure someone who was getting eaten by a shark would be.

He just frowns deeper, looking confused. "Shark?"

I nod, hating how much ocean water is getting in my eyes. I'm not crying or anything! It's just this darn ocean water that's on my face. It would make anyone look like a crying five year old girl to the untrained eye. Good thing people understand that and don't just jump to conclusions that could ruin a guy's reputation.

"Calm down. There isn't any shark in here," he says, but this dude must've lost a lot of blood because I look over his shoulder just in time to see the tail dart out of the water. I start babbling incoherently about how I don't want to die like this when he shakes me roughly and grabs my face.

"Belt up before you attract the entire bloody world," he hisses, swimming me over to the rock's edge and setting me down. I latch onto it like grim death, shivering in my swim trunks and t-shirt that're now plastered to my body. When he pulls back, I make a move to reach for his hand even in my pathetic state. But then I stop, going still.

From this angle I can see more clearly. And yet what I see doesn't make me feel better at all.

He's right. It isn't a shark. It's much too green and the tail isn't even pointing in the right direction.

How I really know it isn't a shark is because I know sharks have heads with five rows of teeth in them, not a naked man-torso with a soggy, scowling guy looking at me.

"Sweet Jesus, it's a mermaid," I whisper, unable to say anything else. I really am speechless. What I'm looking at doesn't compute in my mind, but it definitely confirms that the ocean is full of monsters.

The mermaid's eyebrows dip a little deeper on his face when he hears that, but he doesn't say anything. He backs up after a lengthy moment of my outright staring, starting to look nervous. His green eyes – God, everything about him is so_ green_ – dart away, unable to keep eye contact.

"Do it," he says, sounding really angry suddenly. It snaps me out of my stupor and I remember that I'm supposed to be scared right now.

"D-do what?" I ask, feeling uneasy when he's glaring at me like that.

"Run back and tell your little friends so they can come take my life," he says, his lip starting to curl. I bite the inside of my cheek, looking at the shore longingly. I can't bring myself to let go of these rocks, though, for fear that I'll fall back into the water, only this time on the deep side.

I briefly wonder what other kinds of things lurk beneath the foam before he moves forward. He's quick enough to make me flinch, and I nearly fall for real.

"Well?" he goads. I can see he's irate, but I can see something else that that I'm very familiar with. I can see he's scared.

"I . . . can't move," I say stupidly.

He blinks, regarding me with a sudden look of bewilderment.

"I can't swim," I continue, not really sure why I'm explaining myself to this . . . thing. If anything, I gave him a segue to drown me and guarantee my silence. So when he reaches for me, I instinctively move away.

He's there in a second, urgent hands pulling me close to him. "Don't! You'll fall," he says, his grip firm on my arms. I suck in a breath between my teeth, feeling my heartbeat in my ears, pounding away distractingly.

Silently, this thing lowers me back into the shallow pool. My feet don't touch the bottom and I'm plagued with a sudden choking sensation in my panic. He must notice because his hands tighten around my torso when I latch onto him. His skin is slippery and smooth under the pads of my fingers, the crook of his neck smelling like brine and seaweed. It's gross.

He swims the both of us with ease over to where the rocks clump together more; to where the shoreline is. When I'm in reaching distance, I scrabble frantically onto the rocks and start running. I slip a couple times, and I step in a tide pool and crush something sharp, but I don't really have time to register that my feet are getting all cut up and bloody.

I'm fueled on adrenaline alone, and let out a breath when and only when my toes touch the blistering sand.

I place my hands against my scraped knees, gulping in the air and gasping, my body shivering from the cool drops of water still dribbling off me. I need to keep running. Get off this damn beach and never come back.

When I catch my breath some, I stand back up and peer out to where the shallow pool is. I can't see the fish-man anymore, but I know he's still in there. Waiting to do something bad, most likely. Everything in water is bad.

I'm about to move away when I stop and just stare at the sand. Some niggling thought strikes me when I recall how nervous he looked. And he carried me back here even thinking that I was going to bring someone else back with me to hurt him.

"Is he stuck?" I utter, having an epiphany. The pool is shallow, sure, but he can get out . . . Right?

I stand there, at war with myself for I don't even know how many minutes, before I curse and run back to the rocks. It's now that I'm feeling the stings of my shredded heals mixed with the salt water. I don't rush it this time as I carefully make my way back to the shallow pool. I stand at the edge and squint at the water, trying to see something that might not even be there.

Then there's a glimmer. Scales the same color as the water.

"Hey!" I yell, waving my arms above my head to get his attention. He doesn't emerge for a while until I see the wet mat of hair break through the barrier. He's looking at me suspiciously and I bite my lip, realizing I hadn't thought this far ahead. What am I supposed to say to him?

"Th-thanks," I say, the word heavy on my tongue. This is probably the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done, and I've had to sit through a talk with my parents after I walked in on them doing . . . _that_ before . . .

He doesn't say anything and doesn't take his head out of the water. He just floats there with his eyes and the top of his head poking through the surface. I shift my scratched up feet against the rough texture of the rocks, dropping my arms to my sides. I look around, almost hoping for something to say floating around in the sky.

"You, um, you didn't have to do that," I mutter, rubbing my arm uncomfortably. "So, thanks . . . for grabbing me." He continues to stare. "And helping me." He doesn't move. "Yeah."

The blonde dude emerges from the water finally with a frown, blowing a puff of air through his nose in exasperation. "You don't owe me anything."

"I just – I didn't mean it like that."

"You ran away pretty quickly. I'd wager you didn't come back because you wanted to," he says, eyeing me thoughtfully.

"That was rude," I quickly blurt, trying to amend how offensive that must've been for him. I flinch when I see him flick his tail under the surface and he notices, extending our distance. He still looks really nervous. "Are you stuck?"

I flinch again because he turns a glare at me with enough intensity to have me second-guessing myself. I see how long he is; how wide the trunk of his body is. He can probably knock me unconscious with just one swing.

Regardless, I put my hands up as a sign of appeasement. "I didn't mean it like a threat. I'm not going to bring a mob back here to make sushi out of you. I was just wondering because . . . Well, because that would suck and you might, y'know, die if you can't get out."

"What are you proposing?" he scoffs. "Are you going to lift me out of here and deposit me to safe waters?"

I know he's being sarcastic, but the thought of being on those rocks again out in the open water has my knees knocking together. I can tell he sees it when he tilts his head to this side and doesn't say anything.

I really don't want to help him. I know what mermaids do, and I'm not talking about Ariel. As someone with a huge fear of the water, I also have a huge sort of morbid fascination with it. Know your enemy, so to speak. That's probably why I've taken a lot of marine biology courses and watch those deep sea documentaries, even the mythological ones.

Nothing good comes from mermaids.

But something in my gut keeps me standing on the edge of these rocks. My dad used to say, "Repay your debts." Like it or not, I was indebted to him.

"I'm not – I can't swim. I told you that," I start, trying my hardest to appear in control. I think I'm failing because he's watching me with a strange expression. "But I am strong. Really strong. I can pull you out if I get a rope or something around you."

"_No_," he hisses, his expression becoming sour almost instantly. His tail moves under the water, causing a spray of white suds to come up beside him. My mouth goes dry and I stumble back a step instinctively. "No nets. I won't be tricked."

"Not a net," I deny loudly, shaking my head fervently. "No nets. Just a rope. I just need one. You're too big for me to pick up, and I can't do it while you're in the water." Drowning doesn't sound like a fun way to spend the day at the beach.

He grows silent for a long while, probably inwardly debating the risks. As nervous as he is about the possibility of me fooling him into getting caught, I'm equally as nervous that he'll pull me down under the surface of the water and never let go.

"Alright," he eventually agrees, sounding doubtful. I don't feel relieved at all like I thought I would. I was kind of hoping he'd reject all my offers until I had no choice but to head home, guilt-free.

"Great," I croak, moving to head back to shore. His eyes never leave my body when I move away from him. "I'll be right back. Just wait right there! Well, I guess you don't really have a choice . . . But I'll be right back!"

And then I'm dashing across the beach, panting and wincing at all the scorching grains of sand getting lodged into my cuts. Pretty soon the sand gets soft like before, and I start to have to maneuver around people until I'm not able to run anymore without jeopardizing running over somebody. When I'm at our beach spot under the umbrella, I don't have much time to wipe the crusted sand from my feet and take Antonio's keys.

I glance at the ocean, noting that most of my group is still in the water. Having a ball. Ignoring me.

"Buttholes," I mutter, turning away and heading up the grassy path to the parking lot. When I find his jeep, I unlock the back and pull out the strands of orange camping rope he used to tie the surfboards to the top of the car.

Even a guy in pretty decent shape like myself is out of breath when I make it back to the shallow pool. I'm practically dry now that I've been running around in the sun for twenty minutes, and sweat is lining my forehead and dripping down the back of my neck. I pull my shirt off and wipe my face with it before tossing it onto the rocks.

"Hey, King Triton! I'm back!" I holler, cupping my hands around my mouth. He's quicker this time, but still takes his time to reveal where he is. I almost jump out of my skin when his head suddenly pops up next to me.

"I thought you left."

I make a conscious effort to not skirt away from him this time and hold up the rope. "I did leave. To get some rope."

He just stares and doesn't say anything, the meaning behind his skeptic words hanging unspoken in the air. He thought I wasn't coming back.

We ignore it as I shift my feet.

"How do you think we should do this?"

The mermaid's eyes dart to the orange rope in my grasp and he slowly lifts his hand out of the water in a wordless gesture for me to hand it to him. He feels it with his hands, running the coarse material over the small webs between his fingers.

"This will hurt," he says after a beat, looking me in the eyes.

I don't know what he means until I remember how smooth and soft his skin felt. The prickles of the rope will easily cut into skin like that. I bite my lip and try to think of something when I peer down at my feet and see my black shirt clumped in a pile.

"Hang on," I say, kneeling down to grab it. I then proceed to tear it into long strands of fabric. The mermaid looks fascinated by it. "We'll just, uh, slip these under. Like a barrier between you and the rope."

He grabs a piece of what once was my shirt and feels it with his palms. "This will work."

I nod, watching as he starts to loop the rope around his torso, making sure to spread the strands of my shirt underneath it. I watch intently, realizing that when I start pulling the rope, the shirt will probably shift and he'll get scraped. I need to be able to haul him out of the water with only a couple of tugs. It will be a challenge.

Right then I feel something touch my foot and I yell, scuttling back like a crab. The fish-man frowns at me, retracting his hand and looking a little insulted. I force myself to smile at him in reassurance, but I think it just looks like a grimace.

"Sorry," he apologizes, appearing awkward. "I need your help with the rest of it."

I don't quite understand what he's talking about until I peer beneath the water to see his tail moving, the rope drifting around in the ripples, not secured to anything. It clicks after a second and I grasp that he wants me to touch him. My hands start shaking.

"I can't get in the water," I say in a rush.

"It isn't deep over there," he says, pointing a bit farther down to the right. "You should be able to stand. I cannot maneuver myself into a position to tie a knot that low. You must do it." He frowns when I start shaking my head. "You _must_."

"What part of, '_I can't get in the water_' aren't you getting here?" I ask, laughing nervously. It sounds manic to my own ears, but I can't help it. Just the thought of getting back in that water makes me want to start hyperventilating.

"I'll hold onto you, I promise."

I shake my head, running my hand nervously over my collarbone. The mermaid reaches out and places his hand over mine, the one fisted against the rocks. I jolt, but he fixes me with a stare that radiates a serious sort of assurance that has me pausing.

"I won't let you drown, boy."

I have no idea what it is about the way he says that that makes me go loose like a ragdoll. Maybe he used some sort of mythological mind game on me. Either way, despite my nerves going crazy, I concede and slink my way over to the right.

The water looks brighter here, and I can see the sand pretty clearly underneath it. Taking a few deep breaths, I lower my leg into the water. It's cold as it laps up around my skin, and soon I'm in up to my bellybutton. I start to shiver, but I have a suspicion it's not from the chilly liquid.

I feel so out of place in water.

The mermaid moves up beside me, treating me like some wild animal that he doesn't want to scare off, ironically. His tail snakes closer until it's making a crescent moon shape around my legs. I cringe when the scales brush against me. It feels so weird.

He snorts and I cast my wide eyes at him. Had I said that out loud?

"Place it here and here. These should hold best," he instructs, taking my hand in his own and making me touch his body. I start to make peculiar little noises in the back of my throat when he has me rub him almost sensually where he wants me to put the rope. I can see him trying not to smile out of the corner of my eye.

The son of a bitch is messing with me.

It's different than touching a person, but it's also different than touching a fish, I note when I go through the painstaking task of winding rope around his body underwater. It's a little harder to put the shirt against him when the water keeps shaking it loose.

He's not slimy like I thought he might be, but it's obvious he doesn't feel like a human either. Even the part of his body that gets soft and peach colored, drifting away from the green tail, doesn't feel quite like a person's body. His skin is softer. _A lot_ softer.

And his tail is smooth like the granite tiles of my countertop at home. But the one thing that stands out the most is that he's warm. I can't tell if it's because anything would seem hot under the ocean if you touched it and it was alive. But he's warm underneath my fingers.

He seems fragile.

_Maybe he's harmless?_

I snap out of it when I finish tying the last knot, shaking off that thought. Get ahold of yourself, Jones. There is no way something like this is docile. I awkwardly pull my hands back to my chest and ease my way out of the water, sitting on my haunches on the rocks.

"Done."

The mermaid gives my work a onceover before concluding it's sufficient enough. He then hands me the end of the rope and gestures to the rocks.

"Guide me over there. I believe that's the best place to do it. I've been the closest to getting out between that crevice," he says. "Don't worry. I won't let you fall," he continues when he sees my anxious gaze.

I hang onto the rope and carefully start walking to where I threw those rocks at him that I now start to feel bad about. The sounds of the waves get louder, water sprinkles getting in my eyes. I hesitate and glance down at him following beside me. He nods and I continue.

I feel like I'm walking a dog.

"Stop," he instructs, sticking his head out of the water further to peer over the rocks. It's narrower on this side and I get the feeling I might psyche myself out and lose my balance. I take him at his word that he won't let me drown and brace myself like I do at football practice. It's just like waiting for the tackle.

"I'm gonna try and do it with two tugs," I yell over the sound of the roaring ocean behind me. "Push as hard as you can, and I apologize in advance. You're going to scrape yourself!"

Not just on the rope, but on the rocks, as well. They're rough and almost prickly under my feet. His stomach is going to slide on them. That's gonna hurt, I don't care who (or what) you are. Not to mention if he bleeds in the water. I don't want to stick around to see a for real shark attack.

The mermaid steels himself and gets into position. He looks like he's about to spring forward like a bullet. I try not to shy away from him, knowing he won't crash into me.

"Ready?" I call. My knuckles are turning white against the neon rope. It hurts. God, my feet and hands and chest all hurt. I can barely breathe. I'm drowning in air. "Go!"

My heels dig into the rocks, aggravating the sensitive skin and I cry out, gritting my teeth and putting all my strength into hauling this giant fish-thing out of the water. At least he helped a little bit by thrusting forward. I hear him make a noise of discomfort when he's dragged over the rocks. With another tug, harder than the first, I manage to get him over . . .

Just in time for his flailing tail to wallop my side and throw me with him.

I hit a wall of cold, my body immediately plunging under the incessant beating of the waves. To make matters worse, not only do I just have the wind knocked out of me by Ariel, but I'm thrown against the rocks, a sharp, hot pain bursting from my calf.

_SHARK_, is the only thing I can think before something grabs me and then I'm breaking through the surface, gasping loudly. I see a fin and, in my fear addled mind, believe that this is something here to eat me. I go to punch it in the face and it says, "Ow!"

Sharks don't say 'ow' to the best of my knowledge. I spit out salt water and see the mermaid's petulant face glaring at me.

"Watch it," he snaps.

"You said you wouldn't let me fall!" I yell, wincing when my leg starts to sting.

"Grab onto me."

"What?" I ask, having a hard time hearing him over the waves. He grabs my arms and slings them around his neck, one of his own winding around my back and pressing me to him.

"You won't drown. I won't let that happen," he says before we're moving. Like, really, really moving.

I feel sick to my stomach and clench my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hot skin against my cheek, the loud growls of the waves, the turbulent pressure against my side as he starts swimming, and the pain radiating in my leg and my feet.

I vaguely have the chance to feel something papery moving against my face before I notice it's his gills. Oh gosh, he has gills.

After what seems like an eternity, the world stops spinning so fast and the ocean quiets down. My feet are stinging from the water and the abuse, but then they feel a flicker of moist sand. I crack my eyes open, cautiously peering around to see a deserted alcove. It's a little rocky, but not as much as where that shallow pool was. I don't see people around.

"Are you hurt?" I hear a soft voice ask in my ear. It's then that I notice how hard I'm gripping my arms around his neck. I spring back but he doesn't let me go completely until my feet touch the ground. I stare at him openly now.

He rotates his shoulder and doesn't meet my eyes. "My apologies for knocking you down," he mutters eventually.

"I swam with a mermaid . . ." I say stupidly, shaking my head in disbelief and running my fingers through my wet hair. His nose crinkles up.

"Mer_man_," he corrects. "And you did no such thing. You can't swim. You sink."

Well, excuse me, Mr. Political Correctness.

"OK . . . Merman. I – Uh, thanks again." I think I'm going into shock because I stop shaking. He turns to look at me, something moving behind his green eyes; I can see him thinking, debating.

"It's Arthur. My name."

They have _names_. None of the documentaries touched on that.

"Thanks . . . Arthur." It tastes weird on my tongue. I'm thanking a mer_man_. Which brings me to my next train of thought. I glance around, concerned. "Where are we?"

It's desolate and hidden. I don't see anybody around and it makes me nervous. Did he take me here to kill me? I suddenly don't want to look at him. His tail brushes against my leg and I flinch. He's trying to get my attention.

"Follow the coast that way and you'll be fine. I can't go over there," Arthur explains, pointing past me down the beach. So there are people over there, then. "You cut yourself when you fell, so I would hurry and get that treated by your companions."

It's like when he says it my body catches up and cries out in pain. I breathlessly nod and watch Arthur pull away from me. I wobble against the tide, staring dumbfounded after him.

"Can you give me a push? It's too shallow," Arthur requests.

With a grunt, I put my hands against his trunk and shove. He darts forward and disappears beneath the murky water.

Just like that, my first beach experience since I was nine is over.

The sun is starting to turn red and orange when I see my friends coming into view. The beach is basically empty now as I limp to them. Antonio spots me first and starts yelling. It's too far and muffled, but the closer he gets, I can see the worry on his face. It magnifies when he sees me clearly.

"Oh my God, what happened?" he asks, almost shooting me an expression of alarm. I blink at him before spreading my arms at my sides and looking down.

My shirt is gone and my skin is red and blotchy. Out in the sun with no protection, I got a full-body sunburn. My knees are scraped and my feet are brown from dried blood and sand. The cut in my calf is still leaking slowly down the back of my leg, too.

I'm soaked and I look like a mess.

"You found him? Jeez, Jones, I thought you never went anywhere on a bea- Holy shit," Gilbert curses, stopping in his tracks to gape at me. "Did you get mugged or something?"

"You found Alfred?" my brother asks, approaching with the group. His doe eyes get so very large when he sees the blood. "You're bleeding," he gasps.

"No shit, Sherlock," Gilbert snaps, grabbing me as gently as someone like Gilbert can and guiding me to the equipment that was getting packed up. About a dozen eyes are on me, throwing out question after question that I don't answer. I have no idea what to say.

"We need to get alcohol on this," Matt says, worriedly eyeing my leg.

Gilbert bites the cap off of the Jose Cuervo he'd put into a Gatorade bottle. "Got it covered."

I actually do manage to punch him when he dumps it on me.

Even as I'm huddled in the front seat of Antonio's car, diligently ignoring the obvious glances he shoots me the entire ride, I just stare out the window at the ocean. Maybe, just maybe, if I squint hard enough, I can see a speck of green in that canvas of reds and purples as the sun sets.

It's not until a week later when I've convinced everyone that I just went exploring and slipped on some rocks – vowing to never step foot on a beach again – that it hits me. I drop the textbook that I'm fishing out from my backpack from my grip, staring in horror at the mini aquarium Matt keeps in our room.

He saved me from drowning _twice_.

I'm still indebted to Arthur.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you on anything, Alfred? And I'm being completely serious here," Matt says hesitantly, eyeballing me as he shuts the car door. I look over the hood at him before averting my gaze with an uncomfortable grin.

"What are you talking about, bro? I'm great!"

Matt doesn't seem convinced because he continues to stare at me, the wind blowing his hair into his eyes. When I opened the passenger door it was like a punch in the face. Beaches always did that. Assault your senses. Considering the dull throb in my bandaged calf, I'd say beaches can assault in other senses, too.

Beaches just suck.

"Man, do I love the beach!" I announce, placing my hands on my hips and soaking in the sun. From our spot in the gravel parking lot, I can't see the ocean yet. There's a small dirt pathway beyond the grass hill with trees planted by the city that outline its border.

But I know the ocean is just on the other side, waiting for me. I shiver.

"Cocaine, mushrooms," Matt continues, following after me. "Did you start sniffing glue again?"

"I never sniffed glue," I retort with a scowl.

"Sharpies, then," he corrects.

"God, that was one time. As _Frozen_says, 'let it go already.'" I slap him on the back and make to run for the grass.

"_Frozen_ didn't say anything, Alfred. _Frozen_was the movie. Elsa was – H-hey! Wait up!" Matt calls when I ditch him, Antonio, and Francis, our two older friends unloading the cooler from the back. I don't really want to stick around for them to find a spot on the sand and "make camp."

I feel my heartbeat in my throat, so I swallow compulsively to get rid of the sensation. I despise this place, but I needed to come back. It wasn't up to me.

I need to find Arthur again.

"Hrkk!" I choke, stumbling back when my collar gets snagged from behind, strangling me. I rub my neck gingerly and glare at Francis, who is smiling with a hint of displeasure behind his eyes.

"Ah, ah. That is very rude, mon cher. Leaving all the heavy lifting to us and abandoning your brother, who is clearly worried for you," he tuts, shoving a six pack of cola into my arms. I snort, not impressed by his little speech.

"No reason to worry about me. I'm a big boy."

Antonio and Matt catch up behind Francis, both of them looking uncertain and wary. I don't like these looks. They went away after I put bandages on my feet and got my leg stitched up, but they came right back two days ago the moment I said, "I wanna go to the beach."

"Agree to disagree," he beams, patting me on the shoulder. "Your wandering privileges have been revoked since that fiasco two weeks ago."

Jesus, Francis pisses me off. He mother hens over my brother like it's in his God damn job description.

"Come on, Al. We'll do something with you this time. You don't have to feel pressured to go into the water," Antonio says, smiling at me. I have a feeling it's forced and meant only as a show, but I don't get a choice to fight it when Francis nudges me forward with his elbow.

Well, shit. This is not what I was expecting at all.

How am I supposed to go find Arthur when I have three babysitters keeping tabs on me? I slump, picking at some loose skin on my arm from my fading sunburn. It's not a guarantee that Arthur is even going to be hanging out here, anyway, now that I consider it. But still.

"It's so hot," Antonio moans beside me, catching my attention. He flops back under the shade of the parasol, limbs stretched over his head.

"Do you need more sunscreen, Alfred?" Matt asks politely, coming up bedside me with the bottle. I smile awkwardly and wave him away. I'm already drenched in it.

"No thanks. I'm good."

I'll be good if I never see another drop of it again.

The beach is less crowded on a weekday, but there's still a pretty decent amount of people here. Mostly tourists, I'd wager. That's what comes with being a beach community. They don't really bother me because they don't interfere with my plan.

Where I found Arthur was away from the public and on the really shitty part of the beach. I doubt I'm going to have trouble with a crowd. Now if only I can shake these guys off. I glance over my shoulder to see Francis talking pleasantly with my brother, getting lunch stuff out of the cooler. Antonio is just staring longingly at the ocean as sweat makes his hair stick to the sides of his face.

Well.

Don't wanna put a damper on their party.

"I'm gonna, uh, go to the bathroom. Yeah. I'll be right back," I announce, standing up and almost knocking my head against the umbrella. All of their eyes shoot to me and I flinch, being sure to not let my grin waver.

When I'm five steps away, I hear Antonio call out, "The bathroom's that way, Alfred."

I stop, looking over my shoulder to see the wooden cabin-esque facility on the grassy slope. My mind fumbles for another excuse.

"I meant go swimming."

Jones, you are the dumbest. It is you.

I want to slap myself when I see Matt's eyebrows draw into a heavy V. "But you can't swim." He says it very slowly, almost like he's talking to a child with a learning disability.

"Yeah . . . Well, yeah. I meant I was gonna learn."

"By yourself?" Francis raises his eyebrow. He's so pompous, I can't stand it. "That doesn't sound wise."

"Well, I wasn't gonna start in the _deep_ end," I huff dramatically.

"It's the ocean. It's all deep end," Matt continues. He sets his drink down and picks at a string on the side of his shorts. "Why don't we just eat lunch first?" he offers, trying to placate the situation when I start hopping from foot to foot impatiently. "We've got the whole day."

"I'll eat later. You guys go ahead," I rush.

"You almost drowned last time!" Matt shouts feebly when I make to turn away, clenching his fingers at his sides. His eyes are wide and upset. "We had to go to the hospital to get your leg stitched up, Alfred. If you fall in again when no one is around . . ." His words fade off.

Francis cranes his neck and says something to him that I can't hear over the sound of the ocean and seagulls and people. Matt nods and I bite the inside of my cheek. I'm not going to fall in the water again, because I'm not going to get whacked with a big fish tail this time around.

"I'll go with him," Antonio says suddenly, trotting up beside me and slinging his arm over my shoulders. "We'll just wade."

I know he's trying to appease my brother, but I can hear what he really means when he says this: _I'll keep an eye on him_.

Well, it's better than nothing, since the next thing I know I'm down the beach with water trickling over my toes. My shoulders tense and air seems harder to get into my lungs when the realization of what I said comes crashing down on me.

My fear of water didn't just evaporate overnight.

"What's wrong?" Antonio asks, standing beside me as I twitch when two kids run by us and splash water in my direction. "I thought you wanted to get in the water?"

I roughly swallow the lump in my throat and lift my shoulder, letting it fall in a shrug. "Is it a race? Can't I just get in there at my own pace?"

Antonio backs away and lifts his hands in surrender. I watch the tourists around us swimming and splashing and floating in the water, but I don't move from where I'm standing. I don't intend to get wet.

"You don't really want to swim," Antonio suddenly declares from beside me and I manage to go stiller somehow. I look at him.

"I do," I lie. "I'm just bracing myself."

He hums in the back of his throat, rocking on his heels. He's not convinced. "We just don't get why you wanted to come out here all unexpectedly. I had to practically drag you on the last outing," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

I stare at his face, frowning when it clicks. "Dude, I slipped. It wasn't your fault, so you don't have to feel guilty."

Antonio's laughter gets quieter. "I'm that obvious?"

"Yup."

"Oops."

"Don't sweat it," I reassure, completely genuine. What transpired that weekend was happenstance, not because of some friends who didn't dote on me when I was feeling petulant. I clap him on the back and breathe a little easier when some of the worry leaves his face.

It's then when I notice it.

It comes barreling behind us like an army on a battlefield. Or something like that. It's practically just as loud.

I twist around to see a hoard of people chattering and laughing, heading in our direction. Directly behind them I can see a banner that reads _HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAITLYN_. My eyes widen and it hits me that this is my chance. Thank God for lame tourist birthday parties.

I forcefully stumble into Antonio and knock him down when we start to be surrounded by these party-goers entering the water. He makes a noise when his butt hits the water and I apologize over the chatter.

"I'll go get you a towel!" I say, turning into the crowd and disappearing. I can hear Antonio's confused shouts behind me but then he just becomes another dot in the distance, struggling to penetrate the wall of half-naked adults.

Running on sand is really difficult, even if you're an athlete. But I manage to make record time, and pretty soon I find myself at the rocky alcove where Arthur dropped me off two weeks ago.

I'm dumbfounded now that I'm here. How is a person supposed to contact a merman, anyway?

I look around and find some loose brush and pebbles sprinkled about the sand. Not really having any better ideas, I pick them up in my arms and start throwing them into the ocean. The rocks get devoured by the waves coming in, but the driftwood floats back to my feet in no time.

"Arthur!" I yell. I wait for a response, watching wave after wave bombard the beach. I stay positive though, and continue to throw things into the water and call for him for the next thirty minutes. The back of my neck starts to sting from being out in the sun, and I fold my arms over my knees.

I sit in the tide, my butt soggy and my face sweating, waiting on a creature I feel like I made up.

"Maybe I did imagine it," I mutter into my arms, despite knowing that I didn't. But not being able to talk about it without someone looking at me like I'm crazy _does_make me feel like I'm going crazy. My fingers bunch in the material of my swim trunks. "I hate fish . . ."

Just then movement catches the corner of my eye and I look up. I don't see anything out of the ordinary, just water and birds. I squint my eyes, tracing the lazy waves of the water when I see it. A smear of vibrant green beneath the surface.

I shuffle to my feet quickly, paranoid it could be some other sea creature of some kind. I see a flash of scales, but it doesn't get closer. It just keeps swimming back and forth out deeper in the water. I peer around my body and pick up a stray piece of wood.

Focusing on where the green is visible in the water, I chuck the branch, hitting the very brim of it. A head bursts through the surface and I'm staring back into the bright green eyes of a merman. I don't go rigid this time around; however, I do stand slack-jawed with my arm frozen over my head very conspicuously.

Arthur stares a long moment before his head dips back beneath the water. I take a few hurried steps forward, my eyes darting around the ocean, trying not to lose sight of him.

After a couple seconds I see the green making its way closer to me until he's beached himself with his shoulders and head sticking out of the water, his tail flickering behind him and catching in the sunlight. Now that I'm not bleeding and scared out of my mind, I'm able to really look at him.

He's different than I remember.

He's much greener. I'm not sure how I confused him with the murky teal of the water. He's pale like something that rarely sees sunlight would be, and there are small freckles on his nose. But what gains my attention is how long he is. His tail makes up easily over half his body length, and it's wide, too.

I'm surprised I didn't get a huge bruise from when it hit me accidentally.

"Why must you always throw things at me?" he says, grumpy as ever. I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to find my voice.

"Sorry. Next time you want to spy on me, I'll remember to keep that in mind."

His face explodes with red as mortification bleeds into his cheeks. It's easier to take delight in this when he's so fair skinned. Arthur's fingers sink beneath the spongy surface of the moist sand, appearing to be struggling for words.

"I've never spied on you."

"What do you call pacing back and forth out there?" I ask, pointing to the deep water. Arthur's vision follows my finger as his lips purse together. "I saw you for a good couple minutes. Is that a cultural thing, or were you just trying to grow some balls and talk to me?"

"B-balls?" he asks in confusion, his eyebrows starting to furrow. He shakes his head, droplets of water dripping from the scraggly hair on the outer edges of his head. "I . . . didn't think you'd notice," he admits, clearly a little dumbfounded.

"It's the glasses, huh?" I say, smiling uncomfortably. When he gives me the same wary look of confusion, I drop it. OK. He doesn't know what balls are in that context, or what glasses do either. Good to know.

My mind flashes me images of possible mer-folk anatomy – giant tentacles and gaping holes overflowing with orange salmon eggs – before I creep myself out and rub my eyes roughly with the palms of my hands.

T.M.I.

"Well, even if I didn't see you, you're still here. _Why_ are you still here? It's been two weeks," I inquire, looking anywhere but down at him. His tail moves distractingly on the outer part of my vision. I notice the flaps at the bottom are torn up and paper thin. I can see the sunlight going through it.

"I can ask you the same thing," he mutters quietly after a minute.

My palms begin to sweat, something squirming in my gut like a dozen earthworms in a mud puddle after a rain. I can't quite bring myself to say I have a debt to repay, and after I figure out just how to do that, I will never step foot on another beach for the rest of my life. That might come off kind of rude, just saying.

What I say instead actually sounds worse.

"I wanted to see you."

Arthur's eyes widen, his face smoothing out from all the scowl crinkles. I must mirror his expression because damn, did that sound kinda gay.

"That sounded better in my head," I elaborate, taking a giant step back from his laying form. I see his fingers tersely digging themselves deeper into the sand, and I don't have long to ponder what that means until he scowls again, his tail descending beneath the tide and scooping up a puddle of water.

He launches it at me and it hits me square in the face. I yelp, rubbing my eyes against the sting, and stumble backward, where I proceed to trip over driftwood and fall on my back.

"What the fuck!"

"You're lying," Arthur says, pushing his torso up from the sand. He's flexible, I note, seeing that my spine would've snapped in half if I did a yoga move like that.

"I am not!" I protest, wiping my wet bangs away from my face. Glasses are harder to see through when they're covered in water. I take them off and go to dry them on my shirt, only to stop with a huff. It's useless now since he soaked me.

"Are you trying to trick me? Are there more of you out there?" Arthur spits, looking so utterly livid all of the sudden. I see panic in his eyes and it gives me pause.

"No! I'm by myself," I start, when he twists around and tries to dislodge himself from the sand. Arthur is rather good at getting stuck in shallow water, though I guess this time it was intentional.

_He did it to talk to you_, a voice in my head chimes in. _Just like you, he was looking to see if you'd come back. Like you said. Two weeks is a long time to stick around._

My chest feels constricted as I launch forward, wrapping my arms tightly around the trunk of his tail before he can manage to disappear in the water and leave for good. He's scared of me, but he doesn't want to be, I conclude.

I know the feeling.

"Let go," he demands, an icy glare cast over his shoulder. I'm in up to my waist on adrenaline alone, desperately grabbing at Arthur to keep him still. We're in his element and it's painfully obvious when he proceeds to drag me into the ocean. I feel my skin prickle and my stomach roil.

"Fucking hell, I said I didn't want to get wet!" I shout, gritting my teeth and gaining a little more traction on the sand beneath me. My vision goes white the second his tail hits me in the face. I nearly let go of him right then.

"I'm not tricking you, Arthur! Pinky swear!"

I'm not sure if it is the way I said it or what I said, but Arthur immediately goes slack in my arms. I cough a couple times, wrinkling my nose painfully when a trail of blood trickles over my lip. Cautiously, and ever so slowly, he turns around to look at me, his eyes dancing around my face, searching for something.

"Pinky swear?"

I nod stupidly. My skin starts to tingle where I'm holding onto him. This overwhelming heat is distracting.

The merman hesitates before winding forward with that astounding flexibility again. Arthur watches me no more than a foot away before he brings his hand up, pinky extended in the air. I gulp, tracing the outline of the webs between his fingers with my eyes. They look just like the papery material at the back of his tail.

One of my arms snake out from underneath him and I clench his pinky with my own. His hand lingers a bit too long and then he's got his hands on my shoulders, at eyelevel. I blink at him.

"How do you know pinky swears?"

Arthur doesn't say anything and averts his eyes, frowning. He starts to push me backward until he's beached again and I'm sitting beside him. I pinch my nose and hold my head back with a wince.

"This better not be broken, or I swear to God . . ."

"I apologize, but I told you to let go," he explains, like that's going to make up for making my face deformed. I roll my head on the wet sand to look at him. He's lying on his stomach, his arms crossed and chin perched on his makeshift pillow.

Arthur doesn't hide the fact that he wants to stare at me. It makes me feel uncomfortable, but I try not to show it. Instead, I take the opportunity to stare back.

"Hey," I mutter, my voice gentle and calm enough to be whisked away in the ocean's breeze. Arthur blinks at me, his eyes round in amazement and wonder. I see his Adam's apple bob once as he swallows.

"Hey," he parrots back with the same mildness.

I don't know where I manage to pull half a grin from, but I feel it on my cheeks and in the way Arthur's eyes drop down to my mouth. "We must stop meeting like this."

The absurdity of the situation alone has Arthur grinning back at me almost instantly. I snort, turning my head back flat on the sand and looking at the sky. It's pretty clear today. There aren't really any clouds in the sky, just like the first time I met Arthur.

I log that useless, but interesting thought away for later.

"Why did you come back?" Arthur questions when I'm certain the blood stopped leaking from my nostrils. I wrinkle my nose and wince. Yeah, definitely bruised, but not broken. I don't have to look at him to know what kind of face he's making.

"I told you," I say, shifting when a tide rolls up a leg hole on my shorts. "I wanted to see you."

God, that's not getting any less gay the more I say it.

"But you detest the water. Am I remembering correctly?" I glance at Arthur and see his large eyebrows knitted together.

"Pretty much, yeah."

The confusion doesn't leave his face.

I sigh and run my hands through my wet hair. "Look, let's just say I was curious and leave it at that."

"What about?" Arthur asks, his face popping into my vision as he leans over me. I yelp in surprise and try to sink into the ground. He has a spark of astonishment swimming around the green of his eyes.

"Well it's not every day a person's world comes crashing down around them," I explain on a quick breath of air, sitting up and leaning away from Arthur's impatient gaze. "I never even considered something like you lived in the ocean. I had to come back and prove it to myself that I hadn't imagined it."

"You got hurt. How is that imaginary?" Arthur questions, pulling himself closer to me. I feel my lips dragging down before his hands dart forward and cradle my face. I suck a stream of air through my teeth at this random action.

"You look so similar, yet so different," he murmurs, twisting my head this way and that. I sputter when his thumbs dip down and pull my lips apart to examine my teeth, the salty tangs of his skin invading my taste buds. "Your ears and teeth and –"

"W-would you not put your hands in my mouth?" I stutter, my face feeling warm under his exploratory touches. I know for a fact it's not from the sun. Arthur doesn't seem bothered by it at all. "It's not like _I'm_ the crime against nature. There are _billions_ of people."

"I am not a crime against nature, you prat," Arthur scowls. "I'm not the only one, clearly."

I go rigid, completely letting it slip my mind that it's impossible to have only one of something. Arthur had to have had parents, who had parents who had – Well, you get the picture. My eyes dart to the ocean and I pull my knees up and away from the tide. What else is living in that water?

"But we never _see_any merfellas and gals," I explain, trying to hammer my point in. "You guys are kind of like myths." Arthur raises his eyebrow. "You're made up," I elaborate, which makes him look angry. "Haven't you seen people before? You knew what I was when you saw me, and that people are dangerous sometimes."

Arthur's tail collects some water and drops it on his back, probably to keep hydrated. It snakes in, leaving long, smooth smudges against the wet sand as it curves into a half moon towards my body. I peer at him, gulping at the apparent caged feeling I get.

"I know about people," he snaps, though his tone indicates he's unsure about the validity of that statement. "I see them on the shore, but I haven't . . . I've never exactly seen one up close before."

I nod in understanding, letting my eyes flick to his tail, edging closer and closer to my body until it brushes the balls of my feet.

Well, that explains the lack of understanding of glasses and testicles. Not that I'd expect him to be an expert on either of those things, I just . . . Maybe it's better not to think about it.

"How'd you know about pinky swears, then? You guys couldn't have figured that out on your own, right?"

The expression Arthur shoots me before he averts his gaze is cold enough to send prickles down my spine. I rub my arm awkwardly, looking back at the ocean.

"Okaaaay. Forget I asked."

Conversation dies just like that and the uncomfortable smothering feeling is back again. I pick at the grains of sand and rocks interspersed in it, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact that the slimy, scaly feeling of Arthur's tail against my feet is distracting. I discretely watch Arthur from the corner of my eye. He's just staring blankly at the water in front of us. I see the gill flaps on his neck flutter before I open my wide, gaping maw.

"You can touch me."

If it's possible for palms to sweat even while soaked from water, I'm sure I manage it. Arthur cranes his head curiously, skeptically, at me. I backtrack to not sound so creepy. I have no idea why I'm suggesting something that terrifies me. I really don't want him to touch me, but something inside my gut is telling me to breach this biological barrier between us and make interacting a little more comfortable.

"If you want to, I mean. Or you can just look. Looking sounds better. It's just – I mean, since you've never seen one up close. For science, yeah, it's for science," I ramble like a jackass, digging my fingers into the sand. Arthur keeps on staring before his lips pull upwards in a small smile. I try to mimic it but I think I just look horrified.

He takes his time staring at me, running his fingers over my neck, my legs, asking me question after question. I answer as best I can, but even I don't know all the technical stuff that goes on in the body. I do the same in return, and find out everything short of how he takes a shit, which I'm really not too curious about.

Arthur has gills, but he also has small lungs. I find this out when he scoots back beneath the water a few times through our conversation. His skin dries out easily, too. I know this after observing his tail scooping water and dropping it on his body periodically.

His ears look different and his skin feels different and his eyes are different, too, but Arthur still looks pretty human. I am secretly glad for this, because if he had looked like an angler fish or something, I doubt we'd be sitting on a beach all afternoon talking.

When Arthur picks up my hand, observing my fingernails and my skin in contrast to his own, I feel my heart thud an extra hard thump in my chest. It startles me and I slip my fingers between his own. The webbing gets in the way.

"Sorry," I apologize, in case I hurt him by clenching his hand, but when I peer up, Arthur looks amazed. I hesitate a moment, wondering why he's looking at our hands like a mother looks at a newborn baby. It starts to weird me out.

"Dude, you're weirding me out . . ." Exactly. I shake my hand away from his and it snaps Arthur out of whatever that little stupor was.

"People are soft," he states and I bristle defensively.

"I can't help it."

Arthur flexes his fingers and holds them up to the setting sunlight, watching the light streams through the webbing folds. "You break easily," he continues, giving me a smug sidelong glance, eyeballing my bruised nose. I huff but I don't really feel exasperated.

"Yeah, well, bite me."

"Why would I do that?"

I rub my swelling nose gently, forgetting that he doesn't understand slang if he hasn't been immersed in human contact his whole life. "Uh, never mind. Forget it." I step out of the border that is Arthur's tail and dust off the grains of sand from my body. He looks up at me and waits to see what I will do.

"I should probably head back now. I'm probably in big trouble with my babysitters," I laugh, though I actually am not looking forward to getting my ear chewed off for disappearing for what is probably four hours. I stretch my arms over my head, sighing in contentment.

"What is your name?" Arthur asks, looking alarmingly serious when I glance down at him. He looks like he just asked me if I knew my parents were in a car accident or some other severe question, rather than just my name.

"Alfred. I'm Alfred Jones," I greet. Christ, I'm still afraid of Arthur, but despite everything in my body telling me to stay away, I can't help but feel like we're almost equals when my names falls from my lips. Arthur nods and runs his hands over the trunk of his tail. He looks like he wants to say something, and I'm just about to leave when he's quiet too long before he speaks.

"I would like to see you again, Alfred Jones."

Something about the way he says it puts a slowly slithering grin on my face. This is terrifying, but that vibrant green directed at me in the sunlight is almost mesmerizing.

"For science, right?" I say, even though I know Arthur doesn't understand what science means. He stares and then nods again.

"Just for science."

I let out an amused snort and stick out my hand for him to shake it. "Sounds cool. I'll be sure to drop by, Arthur."

Arthur opens his mouth but no words come out. Instead, he takes my hand in his own, twining our fingers together as opposed to shaking it. He stares at our hands just like the last time, but I don't shake him off this time around.

When he finally does let go of me, he's smiling. The green disappears beneath the water and I'm all alone again on the beach.

I don't rush to get back to my brother and our friends. I choose to take my time and let my mind drift to Arthur. My world was so small before, but now that I met him, it's like everything has endless potential. What else is out there? How far does the world really go?

All of this should scare me, and I guess on a basic level it does, but it's also a relief. My eyes are less clouded. I can see much more clearly than my peers.

It's liberating.

When I get back to the populated part of the beach, I'm horrified to see a crowd and fire trucks. I want to groan and cover my face with all of the attention that swarms me when my brother and Antonio and Francis finally spot me. There's more questions this time around when I wander over with a swollen purple nose bleeding into two black eyes.

I dumbly explain that I just fell again, and complain to Matthew for calling 911. Though, given the situation, deep down I can't really blame him too much when I was gone for hours and come back with another mysterious injury.

I have no idea when I will be able to see Arthur again, now that my leash has been shortened yet again.

But even as I sit quietly on the awkward car ride home, ignoring Antonio's withering attempts to lighten the mood, I know that not even my worried friends can keep me from coming back to explore this new feeling. I hold my hand up against the diminishing sunlight and watch it stream through my fingers.

After all, I owe it to science, don't I?


End file.
